a few times each century ares flexes his muscles
and swords clash and guns fire and missiles go flying
into clean explosions that redden the sky with angry flashes
and redden the ground strewn with brand new bodies
they are slowly pulled under the dirt of time
by the roots of flowers of abundant color
springing up from between splattered heads and crushed appendages
gleeful children run through the garden picking the flowers
until storm clouds converge above and they run home frightened
and after the rain the stalks sprout new buds
and the mighty phoenix explodes out of the fertile ground
and spreads its wings out to the horizons
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